


wild for to hold (though I seem tame)

by mshoney



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Jonsa Week 2019, Jonsa babies - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-13 04:41:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21488509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mshoney/pseuds/mshoney
Summary: When the young Queen Lyra inherits the Direwolf crown of her late mother, Good Queen Sansa, she feels wholly unprepared for the legacy it carries.Lyra finds herself struggling with her grief and the seemingly never ending proposals of marriage. But it all comes to a head with the  arrival of a mysterious man of Night’s Watch who brings along with him family secrets that Lyra isn’t sure she is ready to face.Jonsa Week- Day 1: past, present, future
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 12
Kudos: 57





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> (This is completely unbeta’ed. I just wanted to post it in time for jonsa week.)
> 
> Title comes from the Poem: Whoso List to Hunt by Sir Thomas Wyatt.

Hearing all the lords and ladies of the North squabbling and bickering and yelling over each other made Lyra want to scream in a matter most unbecoming of a gentlewoman, much less a Queen of the North. 

Even more irritating than the matter of which they were expressing their very loud opinions was the topic of which those opinions were on. 

It seemed not a single day would grant her respite from the tiresome pestering of potential suitors. 

“I beg Your Grace to give the Lord Wells more thought. He is, besides being the best northern match in the light of the seven, said to be, for a man, beautiful and well-faced”

“Ah Lord Manderly, then perhaps you should marry him” Lyra answered quickly, and immediately regretted so as she watched the elderly man’s face begin to redden. She had embarrassed and disrespected a good friend of her mother’s and she felt the full shame of it. “I beg your pardon, my Lord. Forgive my quick tongue. It doesn’t always heed the manners of which my mother raised me to exhibit.”

The mention of Good Queen Sansa softened the man and sobered the room entirely. The north, it seemed, two moons were not enough to mend the loss of the last reigning monarch Sansa Stark, Queen of the North. The North and and even some lands of the Southern Realm mourned the loss of the woman who had ruled the north through its first years of independence, the long winter and the golden summer. 

Lyra stood from the Direwolf throne and bestowed her advisors with a soft smile, “My Lords Manderly, Mormont Karstark, and My Ladies Reed, Ryswell, Glover and Karstark, I do greatly appreciate your clement advisements and take them to heart. My choice of husband and king is not one taken lightly, requiring much reflection. When the decision is made, you will be the first to know.”

And without giving them the chance to start their debate again, Lyra left the great hall, taking great strides to reach the privacy of her solar. She was followed closely behind by her chief advisor, Lord Jon Tarly, close to her in age perhaps but not in height. He struggled to keep pace with the taller woman without being whipped by her long dark hair, flying long and curls unbound behind her. 

Lyra always envied her mother’s hair, how long it was, and the bright shade of red that had only deepened with age. Lyra had at some point in her youth requested of her ladies maids to tie red ribbons into it so she could pretend she had shared the trait with her mother. It was a habit she never outgrew as Jon could see one of the red ribbons peaking out from between strands of curls. He huffed a little laugh reached out and tugged it out of her hair.

“Ow, Jon!” She shouted, stopping suddenly and whipping around to give her old friend a withering look. “I’ve told you a hundred times not to tug at my hair ribbons!”

“Well, if you didn’t make me sprint after you.”

“I’m sorry.” she sighed heavily, resumed her walk to her solar, more conscientious to take smaller steps so that Jon need not run after her. “Marriage,” she explains, “it is a tender topic. Whatever I decide doesn’t just affect myself, it affects the entirety of the north, my reign, my mother’s legacy.” 

“It is a big decision”

“Yes it is.” Lyra walks into her solar and holds the door for Jon to follow her in. “I simply wish my mother were here, she would know what to say, what to do.”

“Your mother was a great queen, but you mustn’t let her triumphs intimidate you, Lyra. You will have your own victories.”

Lyra felt a small weight lift off her chest with those words. Her mother’s passing was sudden. It thrust upon Lyra grief, responsibilities, and self doubt in equal measure. And although she had spent her whole life preparing for the day she would inherit her mother’s crown, she felt everyday, all the more unprepared for it.

“Thank you, Lord Tarly.”

“Anytime, Your Grace”

Lyra moved further into her solar and took a seat at her mother’s writing desk. Another thing belonging to Sansa that Lyra found in her possession.

“Now before the meeting with the Lords, you mentioned a shipment by the way of Castle Black, did you not?”

“Yes, a man of the black brought a cart.”

That was odd in and of itself. Castle Black did not send envoys often. And when they did, they were more likely to request supplies, not bring them. Lyra’s brow furrowed in thought of what could possibly be brought down to Winterfell from the wall, and drew a blank. The Free Folk have their own envoys, there was no need to send a man of the Night’s Watch.

“A cart? A cart of what?” In lieu of an answer, Jon shrugged his shoulders. “And where is this man, now?”

“We gave him lodgings to recuperate from his journey.”

“It is well past mid-day, I believe he has rested enough. Bring him to me, please.”  
She would hope to have this curiosity satisfied before supper. 

“Right away, Your Grace.” Jon bowed low and made his way out, leaving Lyra in a silence that did nothing to muffle the noise in her head but rather magnified every thought all the louder.


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No beta, all mistakes are my own.

The Nights Watchman was younger than she. His clothes were rumpled and misaligned on his body as if he threw them on in a hurry. She felt a pang of guilt at having him woken up.

He wiped sleep from his eyes before he took notice of her presence and stood at attention.

“Your Grace.”

“I hear you’ve come from Castle Black, but I was unaware of an envoy.”

“My apologies to arrive unannounced,” Lyra waved him off before he could finish the apology.

“I only wish to know why you’re here, sir.”

“To return the items left behind by Queen Sansa at Castle Black.”

Silence stretched out between the two as Lyra tried to comprehend the statement.

“I didn’t realize my mother, the queen frequented Castle Black so often as to leave belongings behind.” In truth, Lyra struggled to recall her mother visiting Castle Black at all. Sansa would often preach the importance of maintaining the Watch. She was mindful of helping them foster a glass garden as part of a larger project she had orchestrated to keep the people fed during the Winter. But never had Sansa mentioned staying more than a few nights. Certainly never mentioned leaving things behind.

“I imagine most of it is from when she was overseeing the construction of the gate, your Grace.”

The Gate was a passion project for what remained of House Umber, who’s keep resided closest to the Wall. Lady Umber, the last surviving member of her house and thus the head of it, had married a man of the Free Folk. A politically sound love match as the Free Folk and Northerners seeked to gain a mutually beneficial alliance in the years following the Great War. The Gate was meant to be a trading post and sign of the cooperation of the people on both sides of the wall. When Lady Umber first pitched the idea to her Queen, she was happily surprised to find she, not only approved but, wanted to be involved in the project.

“It is said the late Queen was very involved in the development. She spent moons overseeing construction and garnering peace between the Free Folk and the neighboring villages.”

“I did not know that.” Lyra murmured as her eyes raked over the cart full of her mother’s things. A large chest, most likely filled with dresses, and a smaller one. A writing desk in miniature, beside a crate of scrolls. “I thank you for returning my mother’s belongings to Winterfell.” She said sincerely as she motioned for the footmen to carry the things inside. “You will return to Castle Black with my gratitude and any supplies, you many need.”

“Thank you, my Queen.”

* * *

Lyra waited until she was in the privacy of her chambers to examine closely her mother’s things. Starting with the large chest, Lyra opened it slowly, feeling odd, as if she was disturbing the crypts beneath Winterfell. Her guess, that it contained clothing proved correct. She recognized the embroidery and beading that came of her mother’s skilled hand on the furred cloaks and dresses within. At the bottom were two bolts of unused fabric and a book nestled snugly between them.

Lyra pulled it out and studied it carefully. Even though the claret leather was fading to a blush, the book was in fine condition, the gold leaf of the page edges, shining in the candlelight.

Lyra closed her eyes and savored the memory that slipped into her mind. Her mother’s gentle hands guiding her through her sloppy sewing, guiding the needle across the threads. She imagined those same hands, holding this book. And if she tried hard enough she could imagine the same hands holding her, across the thread of time, across the divide of life and death.

Then, as though she were handling the wings of a dragonfly, Lyra opened the front cover. And there, in the neat and stylish hand of her mother, was an inscription:

_ a private collection of thoughts by Sansa Stark._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I’ve been nervous about posting this as I’ve not written in a long time and I’ve never written Jonsa before. I’m fairly new to the ship. I’m a big sansaery shipper and just got into jonsa right before season 8 aired. I’ve loved all the creative works in this fandom and wanted to contribute something. hopefully you like it.


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